Back From Nineveh
by Wilusa
Summary: A direct sequel to "Star Light, Star Bright." We last saw two familiar Immortals stranded on a dying planet, being burned to a crisp. Help is on the way...but will it arrive too late?
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: _Highlander_ and its canon characters are the property of Davis/Panzer Productions or a successor corporation; no copyright infringement is intended.

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_Five._

Nick Wolfe had been privy to so much secret knowledge, for so many millions of years, that he'd tucked it away in a seldom-visited corner of his mind. Thought of it as not exactly "real." That was the only way he could function.

But now it was _inescapably_ real.

_Five._

Nick had been horrified when scientists proposed creating an Inner System Wormhole. He'd learned from Duncan MacLeod's secret Chronicle - transmitted to him via Darius - that it would lead to the destruction of the Sun, and Earth. But he'd known that he couldn't convince anyone else of that, even if he tried. And in fact, he _shouldn't_ try. The consequences of changing the "past" MacLeod had experienced would have been almost unimaginably dire.

So he'd kept silent...and quietly begun the research and planning that had brought him where he was now. At the helm of a spaceship orbiting Mars, in command of a hand-picked crew who trusted his "hunch" that their various skills - mostly medical - might be needed.

_Five._

In his youth, he would have laughed at the idea that Immortals might require medical care. But there had been conditions - thankfully rare - not helped by Immortal healing: amputation of limbs, injuries to the neck and throat. _Longivivax_ doctors had found ways to treat them, with varying degrees of success. Sometimes, they could even save individuals whose necks had been partially severed, with the head still having a slight attachment to the body. He knew, though, that in most of those cases it proved impossible to move the body even slightly without severing that last connection.

Doctors were needed for young long-lifers who hadn't Transitioned. They were most frequently called upon to treat injured children, in hopes of preventing premature Transitions. And they also learned how to treat all the injuries and illnesses that might befall Primordials, who frequently traveled beyond their own planet. In a friendly tit-for-tat, Primordial doctors also learned how to treat long-lifers. In fact, two of them were among Nick's crew.

_Five._

If he'd told any of that crew the truth about their mission, he would have lost them. They would have thought him a lunatic.

_Even I have a hard time believing all this..._

_Duncan MacLeod, __**Ludovic**__, is unique in history in having been named - unknowingly, on his mother's part - for_ _**himself**_**.**

_Methos and Cassandra are unique in history in having traveled back in time, been left with amnesia, lived the previous years of their lives over again, preceded by many more...and wound up face to face with their younger selves, just as they were about to get into the time machine._

_**I'm**__ unique in history in having had literally millions of years to prepare for a specific rescue mission...and_ _**still**_ _not being sure it will succeed!_

_Five._

He was remotely controlling a smaller craft crewed by virtually indestructible robots, hovering over Earth. On his order, the ship would descend and land. The robots would break into the scientists' hangar, if it was still intact. Introduce themselves, if possible. They'd bring Methos and Cassandra aboard the rescue craft (whatever their condition), and rush them to the mother ship.

"Rush" was a relative term. Methos and Cassandra would have to be in suspended animation for months before reaching Mars. But they wouldn't arrive in any worse condition than when they'd left Earth. And if Nick had brought the mother ship closer, his "lurking" would have caught the attention of the other type of volunteers. They would have questioned why he wasn't _doing_ anything. What was he waiting for?

_Five._

And that was the crux of the problem he faced. A _huge_ problem. He knew what Miko Jinmari had said about the lethal "next surge," that might come at any time. But he couldn't risk activating the robots until he was sure the time machine had departed - until _the scanner he was viewing told him only two humans were still there. _

_Five._

And all he knew of the situation came, indirectly, from MacLeod - who'd been _unconscious_ when the machine left. So conditions even then might have been worse than those he described. By the time the robots reached Methos and Cassandra, they might be dead or past saving.

Nick couldn't let the ship descend to an altitude where anyone on the ground might see it - or hear it, from inside the hangar. Even if Miko and Xanda were in the not-yet-activated time machine and unable to hear the ship, they might see Methos or Cassandra react to a noise from overhead. Any distraction might cause them to delay their departure. And for all Nick knew, a delay of only a few seconds beyond the time they'd leave if his rescue vessel wasn't there might prevent _their_ getting away safely.

_Five._

_If the time machine doesn't get away, with Mac aboard, there will be massive changes to history. Miko and Xanda will die. Methos and Cassandra, and Mac, will simply vanish, never having existed. Mac realized, in the past, that Methos was the ancestor of all the Original Immortals - that includes me! So __**none of us**__ will ever have existed. And the same goes for long-lifers even partially descended from us. _

_The ship I'm commanding will be somewhere else, as will its crew of medics - who'll be going about their normal routines, never having heard of Nick Wolfe._

_Five._

He knew history would be changed in other ways as well. The time-traveling MacLeod, much to his own surprise, had played a major role in the origin of Christianity. Without him, it might have been a different - worse - religion, or might not have come into existence at all. The probable alternative, Mithraism, almost certainly would have been worse. All humans' old religions had long since died out; but Christianity had been so important, for so long, that a major change in its history would have as many repercussions as the non-existence of Original Immortals.

_Five._

_And there's another horrendous possibility, totally beyond my control. What if Methos feels honor bound to tell Miko and Xanda what will happen if they take Mac with them - and knowing that, they __**don't **__take him? They seemingly have free will, and they haven't actually done it yet. _

_Their leaving him behind would prevent the time machine's malfunctioning. That would also wipe out all of __**us**__, the only difference being that the two of them would survive. They'd probably be able to "live happily ever after" in the changed reality, without even remembering what they'd done!_

_Five. _

_Mac and Methos are like family to me, and even if I survive this day, I may never see __**either**__ of them alive again. I'll certainly never see Mac._

_Why didn't I trust myself to see them when they stopped off on Nineveh? My research was important, but I could have put it off. I just didn't trust my acting ability..._

_But how could I possibly have explained my not __**insisting**__ on going to Earth with them?_

_Five._

_If I don't survive this day...if all the Original Immortals are wiped out of existence...my little son Brendan will vanish as well. And Merith won't remember either of us. Was it wrong of me to risk bringing a child into the world when I did? Knowing what might -_

_**Two.**_

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Nick almost erupted out of his seat. The time machine had departed! Miko and Xanda _had_ taken MacLeod. Methos and Cassandra were the only two humans on Earth...and _he_ was still alive.

His initial burst of relief gave way, within seconds, to a feeling of utter emptiness. _Duncan MacLeod is really and truly gone from this era, forever..._

But before he'd let himself feel anything, he'd pressed the button that sent the robots on their way.

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Two hours later, he had detailed information on Methos and Cassandra. The news wasn't good.

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But he still wasn't prepared for what he saw, two _months_ later, when he boarded the just-docked rescue vessel.

Blackened skeletons.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Twenty-five years later.**_

The pain was gone.

And that was terrifying, because pain was all he _was_. Pain was his _identity!_

But...he realized he wasn't in a complete void. There were...sounds.

He couldn't make out what they were. And he knew he wasn't producing them. They existed outside himself.

But that meant that he _had_ a "self." He was some kind of "being," able to hear sounds...

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Not just "sounds." He was hearing _voices_.

He still couldn't make out what they were saying, but he clung to them like a lifeline.

_I'm a_ _**person**_, _capable of hearing voices..._

_I'm a_ _**man**_**...**_**my name is Methos!**_

_But once, long ago, I was called Miko Jinmari..._

And all the memories came rushing back. Culminating with that last moment on Earth, Xanda/Cassandra in his arms, where she belonged, where she'd always belonged, as they were swallowed up by the flames.

_**But somehow, I'm alive!**_

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Most humans expected that after death, their minds would slip into another dimensional realm - outside "time" as they'd known it - and dwell there until they were somehow guided to a new incarnation. But Methos was sure he wasn't dead. He'd realized he was breathing.

He seemed to be lying on his back. He couldn't move. And unless he was really in pitch darkness, he couldn't see...but as he thought about that, he became aware his eyes were covered with something. Probably bandages.

_How can I be alive?_

_And if I am...is __**Cassandra**__ alive too?_

Now, suddenly, he realized something else. He could hear those voices more clearly - could actually understand them. And they were talking about _him_.

An excited male voice said, "I'm sure he's alert! This degree of brain activity proves it."

A female voice: "Do you think he's aware of us? Able to hear what we're saying?"

Methos made a determined attempt to think _Yes, yes!_

Both voices, in unison, let out a shocked _**"Oh!"**_

Then the man spoke directly to him; his voice had become gentle and reassuring. "Stay calm. Everything's going to be all right..._you're_ going to be all right. You were badly injured, but we're sure now that you're going to make a full recovery. Do you understand?"

Methos was about to think _Yes_ again. But he changed his mind, and decided to test his own voice. What came out was an only slightly slurred "Yes."

One of the presumed medical professionals replied, "Wonderful!" The other, "You're doing great!"

He asked, _"Cassandra?"_

After there'd been a disturbingly long pause, he insisted, _**"Tell me!"**_

And the man said, "Uh...your wife is alive. And everyone honors the two of you, for risking your lives to save those children! But...she...isn't doing as well as you are. I think that's all I should say for now."

Methos felt tears welling up in his eyes, under those bandages.

He had to ask something else. "Wh-what happened? _How can I be alive?"_

"Your family will be here soon," the woman told him. "They can answer all your questions." She sounded glad to be relieved of the responsibility. "Men named Richie and Darius Ryan, Nick Wolfe? They're nearby - we'll just have to call them and tell them you're conscious. They'll be thrilled!"

"And you need to rest now," her male colleague put in. "You'll be weak at first, after having been immobile for...some time. And for a while, your eyes won't be able to take even normal indoor light. But you _are_ going to make a complete recovery - don't worry about that for a minute!"

Methos realized he _was_ exhausted. So he didn't protest. Couldn't protest. But he wanted to scream.

_"That" isn't what I'm worrying about!_

_What's happened to Cassandra?_

_Has anyone learned what became of MacLeod? No, they can't even know he was sent back in time, if Cassandra hasn't been able to tell them. And we never had been aware of his having a double, in all these millions of years..._

_Is Marcellus all right? We didn't see Nick when we had to leave Marc with his wife._

_And...I'm thankful to be alive. But __**how**__ were Cassandra and I plucked out of that compound, __**when no one knew we were there?**_

_It makes no sense. Even if other volunteers had room in their ship and thought of checking the compound, it was __**too late**__. That last heat surge destroyed our all-environment suits, would have destroyed anyone's. And the bodies inside them were expected to crumble and disintegrate. __**No one should have survived!**_


	3. Chapter 3

When Methos woke from a fitful sleep, he realized there were people holding his hands. Both hands, on both sides of what he presumed was a bed.

He said cautiously, "Uh, hello?"

Nick, Richie, and Dare all began greeting him - and identifying themselves - at once. And then he couldn't ask any questions, because he had to keep answering _theirs_.

Yes, he remembered them, understood who they were, was thankful they were there. (Where?) Yes, he could feel them holding his hands. Yes, he understood that he was both "Miko" and "Methos." (But how did _they_ know?) Yes, he remembered the crisis on Earth, and his and Cassandra's having been together at the end, sure they were about to die. (But why weren't they asking about MacLeod? Was it possible they _didn't know he'd been there?_)

No, he wasn't in pain, physically uncomfortable, or anxious about his medical condition.

When he finally - as he perceived it - had a chance to get a word in edgeways, he didn't know where to start.

Nick saved him the trouble by saying gently, "We have a lot to tell you. But maybe this should come first.

"You and Cassandra were very badly injured. Medics found that they _could_ repair everything, physically. But nothing like it had ever been done before. It required a lot of time. And they couldn't prevent your feeling pain.

"The time involved, before they could risk bringing _you_ back to full consciousness...it's been twenty-five years."

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Methos gulped.

Twenty-five years normally didn't seem like much, given their life spans. But it _was_ a long time to be unconscious.

_And that means they definitely do know __**something's**__ happened to MacLeod..._

"Unfortunately," Nick continued, "Cassandra couldn't tolerate the pain as well as you have. She shouldn't be in pain now, for any physical reason. But whenever the medics try to bring her a little way back, she's mentally _shriekin_g, tortured by _phantom_ pain. And since there's no precedent for this, they can't say whether she'll ever recover.

"It isn't a case where someone might be kept temporarily 'dead' until a cure is found. Everyone's agreed that the better choice is to keep her in a coma, so people can talk to her, encourage her, and hope it will someday make a difference.

"We're on Silverthorn - this hospital's a quick hop by aircar from the home you shared with Xanda. That's where we've been staying. Either Richie or Dare has been here every day, for twenty-five years, to sit with you and talk to you. I've needed to be elsewhere most of the time, but I've come whenever I could. And we've visited Cassandra too, even though none of us knew her."

Methos could barely manage to whisper, "Thank you. All of you." But then he pulled himself together and said, "_I_ want to visit her! Right now!"

To his surprise, no one tried to talk him out of it. Instead, Nick said, "We thought you'd feel that way. I'll ring for an aide."

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Evidently, the hospital staff _did_ "honor" Methos and Cassandra. _Or whatever they think our names are._ No fewer than four interns showed up to participate in lifting him into a wheelchair and trundling him into a nearby room.

But it was his family who positioned the wheelchair next to the bed, and placed Cassandra's limp hand in his.

At least her hand was warm.

He hoped she could feel him kissing it. And then - with help - bending over the bed and kissing her on the lips.

Richie said softly, "I know you don't care about this. But she's...beautiful. I'm sure she looks exactly as you remember her."

Methos murmured another thank-you, then spent what he guessed was about fifteen minutes talking to Cassandra. Apologizing - again - for the Horsemen incident. Telling her he loved her. Reminding her of all those _trees_ they'd planted together, and assuring her there'd be many more.

When he realized he'd become so tired that his words weren't making sense, he let the interns push him back into his own room and put him in bed.

By then, though, he'd gotten his second wind. So he fired a barrage of questions at Nick and the Ryans.

"How were we gotten off Earth alive? How did you learn I was once Miko Jinmari? Why aren't you asking anything about MacLeod? But before all that, because he's such a vulnerable person..._is Marcellus all right?"_

"Yes, he's fine!" Nick assured him. "Happy and healthy as ever...thoroughly enjoying life, in his own way. Merith and I kept him with us, because our little boy Brendan - an adult now, of course - had practically fallen in love with him." Methos was sure that for at least that moment, Nick was smiling. So was he. "You should have seen them together, when they were two little kids! Brendan will always think of Marc as his brother.

"I know you'll want to be reunited with Marc. That's important for both of you. But, uh, I don't think it would be a good idea to bring a toddler _here_..."

"No, definitely not," Methos agreed. He shuddered at the thought. _Even if Cassandra really is "beautiful," I suspect whatever I look like right now would give a child nightmares._ "That's something for me to look forward to."

"About the other things..." Nick was still doing the talking, and Methos felt a trace of amusement at the others' deferring to him, the _least_ close relative._ They're all over five million years old, but they still respect him as the "oldest"? When he can't be more than a decade older than Richie?_

He forgot all that when he heard what Nick said next.

"We know about the time travel."

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"This is part of a long story," Nick said quietly. "So now, I'll just tell you a little about what happened to Mac.

"He arrived in the past at a later date than you, but still what we'd think of as 'ancient times.' And he didn't have any memory loss. He thought that was because he was unconscious during the actual time travel, and I'm guessing he was right.

"I know the things I do because I've read his Chronicle - that is, the Chronicle of the Immortal he became in that era. It was written in ancient languages, and never reproduced in translation..."

A stunned Methos remembered MacLeod's having _possessed_ the "complete, unabridged" Chronicles kept by the Watchers. _Incredible. He had the record of his own past all the time, and the only thing that kept him from reading it was its being in dead languages._ The volumes would have passed to Richie when MacLeod was presumed dead, but Methos could understand Nick's having been the one who ferreted out the truth.

He burst out, "What happened to MacLeod himself? 'The Immortal he became'..._is he still alive somewhere?"_

"No," Nick said gently. "I'll tell you about that later, okay? He did have a good, _valuable _life in the past, and he wouldn't want us to mourn him."

Methos felt something die inside _him_. And he certainly would mourn MacLeod. But he wanted to hear the rest of the story, so he made himself say, "All right, go on. Tell me things in the order you think best."

"I knew from his Chronicle that you were in danger," Nick went on. "And that your younger self was the ancestor of the whole race of Immortals - MacLeod had figured that out, so I assume you have too."

"Yes."

"You and Cassandra couldn't be rescued from that compound until the time machine left, or we'd all be wiped out. But by then, no humans could have reached you safely - everyone would have died! The way I got around that problem was by sending in robots."

Methos imagined his eyebrows shooting up. "_Brilliant!_ But...I still don't understand why our bodies hadn't disintegrated..."

"I didn't understand that myself, at first," Nick admitted. "You were just burned skeletons, but the skeletons were intact, and the skulls' still being in place had provided some protection for your brains.

"There were two Primordials in my human crew, and they were able to tell me what had happened. The Sun was emitting a lot of coronal mass ejections in those last few weeks, right?"

"Y-yes. They really fouled up communications."

"They did more than that," Nick told him. "Those ejections always include some cosmic rays - not enough to cause damage. But with the Sun in a state of disruption, there were way more cosmic rays than normal. The radiation alone would have killed most species on the planet! No long-lifers noticed it, though, with everything else that was going on.

"As it turned out, the one real effect it had was a good one. _It calcified your bones!_

"The Primordials understood that right away, because of discoveries archaeologists had made on their planet. They'd found skeletons of long-dead animals, victims of a great extinction, whose bones were in the same condition. Primordia's sun is a red dwarf, and stars of that type are extremely volatile _early_ in their existence. Scientists had figured out what happened there - it had forced evolution to start all over again, with the result that advanced native life-forms never developed.

"So the out-of-control radiation from our Sun calcified your skeletons, kept your skulls attached to other bones - and left your brains in place, though damaged. We couldn't do much aboard our ship. But the two Primordials - doctors - gave us valuable advice. They still use cloning techniques to replace damaged organs, like all humans did for millennia before the _longivivax_ species was developed. With their help, our doctors managed - eventually - to heal your bones and brains, and utilize those cloning techniques to regrow everything that had been attached to them."

"Th-that's _amazing_." Methos knew the words were inadequate. Any words would have been inadequate. "I'll be eternally grateful...to the staff here, _and_ you and your crew."

"Uh, there's something I haven't told you yet." Once again, Methos was sure Nick was smiling. "_Someone else_ was most responsible for saving you...

"When I said I'd learned things from the Chronicle of the Immortal Duncan MacLeod had become, I let you assume it was the _Watchers'_ Chronicle, and they'd just taken note of things he'd said at one time or another.

"In reality, it was a 'Chronicle' _he_ kept. And he went to great lengths to assure that someone would write it down - _after his death_ - and pass it on to _me_. So I could try to save you and Cassandra!

"I don't want you to think he felt closer to me than to Richie or Dare, or trusted me more. He had to work with the future as he remembered it, and I was the only one of the three of us who'd been near enough to Earth."

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He went on to tell Methos the whole, almost unbelievable story of how MacLeod had learned he was the original "Ludovic." How he'd let destiny take its course by allowing Darius to behead him, then gone on to become the teacher of the man who'd taught him. How he'd protected Methos down through the centuries...guaranteed his own birth...and finally, assured through Darius that his Chronicle would be entrusted to Nick.

"He made two requests of me," Nick said softly. "One was to have his remains - that would be in a crypt in St. Joseph's Chapel - cremated, and the ashes buried with Tessa Noel. I took care of that long ago, at a time when the living MacLeod was far from Paris and wouldn't notice activity around her grave.

"His other request was that in this crisis, I come back from Nineveh and try to rescue you and Cassandra.

"He understood the sacrifice you and she had made, when you _knowingly let yourselves be separated for millions of years_, for a _**chance**_ of saving him.

"But I'm sure he would have done all he could to save you even if he hadn't known that. He loved you very much."

Overwhelmed, Methos could only whisper, "I loved him too. And I always will."


	4. Chapter 4

Not since the years preceding his Transition - which he now, thankfully, remembered - had Methos needed time to recuperate from an injury. So the week that followed was hard for him.

He spent hours, every day, sitting with and talking to Cassandra. But this was no fairy tale, in which a lover's kiss could revive a sleeping beauty. He couldn't pretend there was any response.

More hours were spent in physical therapy, as he gradually regained the use of his limbs and learned to walk again. Once a day, doctors took him into a dimly lit room, and removed the bandages so they could check what they said was the slow improvement of his vision. He could see enough to be sure he wouldn't be blind.

In fact, he wondered whether they might be "keeping him in the dark" so he wouldn't demand access to a mirror, and learn what he really looked like.

_Maybe they think that when I'm stronger, I'll be more able - psychologically - to cope with what I'll see?_

_I won't make an issue of it. But I would be able, even now, to accept however bad it is. I won't let anything stop me from making good use of the life my son tried so hard to save._

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Other hours were spent with his family. And most of their conversations were about MacLeod.

He asked Nick, "So...way back, all those millions of years ago, when you 'guessed' his secret name, you really knew it was Ludovic? And that he was the original Ludovic?"

"It was more than a guess," Nick acknowledged. "But I wasn't sure, because I'd only seen his Chronicle for the first time that day, and couldn't trust my translation.

"I thought his mother had wanted to name him for Darius, but figured it would be too obvious. So she picked a name that would have _pleased_ Darius, even though he'd never know. Does that make sense to you?"

Methos had already been nodding. "Perfect sense. I remember having told Margaret about the holy man whose Quickening Darius had taken...the change it had made in him, all for the good. And I told her Darius had named his order for him, the Ludovician Friars.

"What I _can't_ remember is whether 'Ludovic' was one of the names I thought of that day, when we were trying to hit on the secret name. Wouldn't have done any good, if I just threw it out there with a dozen others! But I can't remember whether I included it at all. Joe Dawson and I compared notes later, but I don't remember whether it was on his list, either."

Nick said, "Oh, that reminds me! Mac came to believe _Joseph of Arimathea_ was a previous incarnation of Joe Dawson."

That brought startled outcries from both Methos and Richie, who'd known Dawson well.

After he'd had a moment to think, Methos asked, "What _was_ MacLeod's connection with Joseph of Arimathea, and the life of Jesus? Did he really become a Christian again, some kind of priest? Hard to believe, after that intended hoax you told me about, that he managed to stop..."

"No," Nick said decisively, "I'm sure he didn't. He was a _friend_ of Joseph of Arimathea - who was actually a Watcher! And he genuinely admired Jesus. But he'd lived in a post-theistic culture too long for there to be any possibility of his believing in the Christian God again. And he never claimed to be a believer.

"As I understand his Chronicle, he came to be thought of as a 'holy man' and a 'priest,' and he finally gave up trying to deny being either. But he was never ordained, never celebrated Mass or administered sacraments.

"He started out, in the years after Jesus's death, by talking to proto-Christian groups. Telling them he'd known Jesus, though only for a short time, and had been present at the Last Supper.

"He said that as far as he knew, Jesus was a normal man. The Temple priests and the Romans had misunderstood his teachings and his intentions - wrongly believed he was a blasphemer, and a violent revolutionary. On the night of the Last Supper, he knew he was about to be arrested. And he could have escaped...but that would have resulted in reprisals against his followers and his kin. So he let himself be taken prisoner and crucified - sacrificed himself, to assure the safety of others. For that, he deserved to be honored and venerated!

"He said Jesus also deserved to be honored and venerated for his teachings. But the ones he stressed were Jesus's having viewed God as a loving father, not a harsh judge - and above all, his having urged empathy with and respect for all one's fellow humans. He was trying to combat dangerous ideas that were already taking hold - Gentile worshippers of Jesus blaming 'the Jews' for his death.

"Decades later, when it wasn't plausible that a mortal his apparent age could have known Jesus, he told his story only to Immortals who were converting or thinking of it. He never sought to convert anyone, or talk them out of it. He just tried to stress the positive aspects of Christianity, and steer them away from the harmful ones.

"In later centuries, there were always a few mortals among the Christian leadership who knew about Immortals, and revered Ludovic. Despite their not knowing exactly what he believed! And eventually, he became the guardian of Paris - _a place he'd always loved._ It was only then that he began displaying the Cup of the Last Supper.

"Darius didn't understand the Chronicle exactly as I do because he really was a man of that era - several hundred years old when he had his encounter with Ludovic. It _was_ natural for him to believe in some kind of God or gods, and it always would be. That was why, after the...enlightenment...he experienced through Ludovic's Quickening, he sought ordination as a priest.

"He'd previously been a Buddhist, so he believed in reincarnation. And since he had access to Ludovic's memories, he didn't believe Jesus was divine, or had risen from the dead. But he convinced himself his beliefs could be reconciled with Christianity. And the Church was so eager for Immortal priests that they never questioned him too closely.

"The bottom line for us is that the MacLeod we knew had a _wonderful_ conclusion to his life, a death he wouldn't have dared to hope for. He owed it all to you and Cassandra, Methos, and he knew it."

Methos said softly, _"But I still wish he was here."_


	5. Chapter 5

During his hours of physical therapy, Methos was touched by the eagerness of the hospital's interns to help in his recovery. They seemed fascinated by his unique case; but also, they couldn't stop praising what he and his "wife" had done to aid the marooned children.

He learned the interns' names: DiNunzio, Shannon, Takahashi, Rodriguez, Levine, Marshall, Dehler, Sharif. He knew their names didn't imply anything about ethnicities. It had become a fad in recent centuries for long-lifers to pick old-Earth surnames that they thought - or claimed to think - they'd borne in previous incarnations. Often, he was sure, it was just a game they were playing. But it had made it easier for Original Immortals to use their true names.

He found himself thinking fondly of "that earnest young Dr. Marshall" - then remembered Marshall might actually be millions of years old, taking a stab at his umpteen-hundredth new profession.

_Well, come to think of it, I was - without realizing it - over a million years old when __**I**__ was an earnest medical student..._

_Okay, maybe I wasn't so earnest!_

He wasn't sure what profession he'd take up now. He certainly wouldn't risk experimenting with time travel again. Medicine? Maybe. But for the foreseeable future, he'd be living nearby and visiting Cassandra every day. Both Miko Jinmari and Methos had left their finances in order, so he had no worries on that score.

He refused to slip into depression. If he did, he'd feel he was "betraying" MacLeod. But he couldn't help being...discouraged.

_I've lost him. And for all practical purposes, I've lost Cassandra. Lost her barely an hour after I'd realized she was the great love of my life!_

Realistically, he couldn't imagine his future being anything but bleak. Couldn't perceive life in general as anything but bleak.

He _was_ anxious to get out of the hospital, and go back to the home he and Xanda had shared. And he wanted to see Marcellus.

_Of course, they haven't let me __**see**__ anyone yet. Even myself..._

But even as he had that thought, one of his doctors came up to him. "I think it's time for us to get those bandages off your eyes, Methos. We'll give you a last quick medical exam. And if everything's as good as I expect it to be, your family can take you home today! Or rather, this evening - you probably should avoid bright sunlight for a few more days."

x

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The bandages came off...and his eyesight was as good as ever. Moreover, he'd been wrong in thinking he'd be either disfigured, or sporting a bland new face nothing like the old one. He looked exactly like he always had; and all body parts were present and functional.

He thanked the medical staff, profusely. Spent most of the day sitting with Cassandra - who really did look, as Richie had told him, beautiful. When evening came he was escorted to a lounge where Richie and Dare were waiting, and they had a warm reunion. He found that being able to see them made a world of difference - made their presence, somehow, more real.

"Nick's gone to get Marcellus," Richie told him. "He won't be long."

_Of course,_ Methos thought. _There's nothing about me, or the place, that would frighten a child now. The sooner I can see him, the better! But he won't remember me, after all these years..._

Then he noticed that Richie and Dare were exchanging uneasy looks.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's actually wrong," Richie told him. "But I think I should prepare you...Nick's going to look sort of different than you remember. It's important that you know nothing is 'wrong' with Nick! He just looks different - entirely by his own choice."

Taken completely by surprise, Methos didn't know what to say. How could Nick look different? He'd had no need to either gain or lose weight. People in this era sometimes changed their skin color temporarily - wanting to look multiracial, like the majority. Or as a fashion statement: blue, green, even iridescent. But that sort of nonsense would be totally out of character for Nick...

Then Nick walked into the room.

And Methos was stunned.

Nick was still Caucasian, still handsome, still apparently healthy. But he looked the way men - from the era in which Nick was _born_ - had looked in their_ mid-fifties!_

Methos couldn't help blurting out, "What happened to you?" And then, horrified: "Did radiation cause this? Did you get too close to Earth's Sun when you rescued us?"

"No, no! And nothing terrible has 'happened to me.' I have a story to tell you..."

Methos was too shocked to remember anything they'd been talking about before. All he could think of now was the latest "story" he was going to hear.

x

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"You'll probably remember," Nick began, "that Nineveh seemed like a world that would need next to no terraforming. We could move right in!

"But after we did, people began noticing something 'different' about the planet's _water_. Its mineral content. It gave the water a slight flavor that was new to us. It wasn't unpleasant, and we had no reason to think it was harmful. But it was different enough that we had to conduct tests on it.

"That's what I was doing on the ocean floor, when you and Mac stopped off with Marcellus. I _was_ engaged in important work, but a delay of a day or so wouldn't have mattered. I just couldn't face you or Mac, when I already knew what was going to happen on Earth. You wouldn't have understood why I wasn't insisting on going with you. And I couldn't tell you I was sure all the children would be saved without me, and I had another mission to carry out!

"It was many months later that I realized what was happening with Nineveh's water. And it was startling. It turned out that if a long-lifer was exposed to that water for more than a few days - even in rainfall, if the person didn't drink or bathe in it - it would _turn him or her back into what we used to call a pre-Immortal!_ In every respect _except_ for their sensing, and being sensed _as_, full Immortals. There being no difference in the sensing was what had kept us from noticing it right away. If the person then left Nineveh, he or she would become a "full Immortal" again, with no need for another Transition. We could come and go many times, and it would always work the same way."

While Methos was trying to wrap his mind around that, Nick said gently, "Richie and Dare told you I'd gone to get Marcellus, right? I didn't have to go far to get him..." Turning toward the door, he called out, "Come on in, Marc."

And in walked...a handsome young man.

With tears in his eyes, the youth said hesitantly, _"Uncle? _D-do you...recognize my voice?_"_

When an awestruck Methos had found his own voice, he whispered, _"Dr. Marshall?"_

A moment later, "Dr. Marshall" was in Methos's arms, and _both_ of them were weeping.

As was everyone else in the room.

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When Methos could finally register something beyond wonderment, he heard Nick say anxiously, "I hope you're okay with the way we did this! We knew you'd be having sad thoughts about Mac and Cassandra. So we wanted to give you a happy surprise as you'd be leaving the hospital. The doctors were in on it. There was no real medical reason for keeping your eyes bandaged so long - we just didn't want you to see _me._

"I chose my words carefully in everything I said to you about Marc. Tried to mislead you, without actually lying."

"Best surprise I've had in my entire life!" Methos assured him. "But...are you and Marc really all right? Not going to age any _more?_"

"Perfectly all right." Nick was smiling now. "To begin with, I should explain that Nineveh doesn't cause _rapid_ aging, or anything scary. Just the normal aging that would take place in a person who hadn't Transitioned. An adult could live there for at least five standard years - maybe, given his or her genes, as long as ten - without looking noticeably different.

"I'd moved Marc and my wife and son to another planet when I realized something unusual was happening, didn't take Marc back till I was absolutely sure how it would work. Sure he'd grow up like a normal kid, then be able to leave Nineveh as a full Immortal, at an 'ideal' physical age of his own choice. He picked an age a few years younger than most do, because he wanted to study medicine and be around when _you_ revived!"

"Words can't express how grateful I am to Nick," Marc said affectionately. "He could have left me there with rotating caregivers, no one staying too long. But he insisted on staying with me - for twenty-three years!"

_So that's why he hasn't been __**here**__ more_, Methos realized.

Nick said casually, "Didn't hurt me a bit."

"Cost you a perfectly good marriage, as I recall!"

Nick shook his head. "Nah. That marriage wouldn't have lasted anyway. Merith and I didn't really have much in common, except for our son Brendan. We probably would have stayed together till he was on his own, but no longer." He smiled. "And I haven't lost Brendan! In spite of the separations, he's closer to me than to Merith."

Methos said thoughtfully, "About family relationships...Marc, there's something I have to tell you. Before I knew who you were, I thought 'Dr. Marshall's' voice was familiar. It reminded me of someone...from so long ago that I couldn't remember who it was.

"Now I know. It was _Darius!_ And you look like him, too!"

He belatedly wondered whether Marc even knew who Darius was.

But the young man was smiling. "I'm glad to know that. I've learned a lot about him, and I'm proud to be his son.

"The truth is, though...I don't remember him at all. It's _you_ I remember, Methos. I have childhood memories of you being with me, in all sorts of time periods. And all the memories are happy. I guess you're the one I really thought of as a father."

Methos said, "Way back, I thought that if you'd had a chance to grow up, you might have become a priest, like Darius. But there haven't been any priests for a long time."

"Nope. I'm becoming a doctor because I learned you'd been one, on and off!"

Methos had to grin. "Off, mostly."

Nick continued, "Of course, now we have a way to help _all_ Ever-Youngs! They just have to spend a few years on Nineveh.

"But you can probably guess..." He sighed. "There's been a ton of controversy about it. Some parents of Ever-Youngs - the kind who _are_ caring for them at home - claim they're _special_, should be left exactly as they are. Others aren't willing either to trust their kids to professional caregivers - rotating - or to spend years on the planet themselves. And the kids are too 'young,' mentally, to be allowed to decide for themselves.

"_I've_ become the legal guardian of all the ones rescued from Earth, and all the others who were in orphanages. It took twenty years of wrangling, mostly long-distance, but I finally won out. I'm having them raised on Nineveh. Not going back myself at this point, for visits of more than a day or two! But I'm sure they're being better cared for than they were in the orphanages. And when they grow up and everyone sees they're happy, grateful adults, like Marc -"

Marc finished the sentence. "A lot more caregivers will be needed on Nineveh!"

"One of the ones there now," Nick said proudly, "is my son Brendan."

A smiling Marc added, "_My brother_ Brendan."

"Strange," Methos mused aloud. "Long ago, explorers searched for a mythical Fountain of Youth. Now humans have found a Fountain of _Age_ - it really is related to the _water_. And we have reason to see a Fountain of Age as a good thing!"

Nick said quietly, "That's not the only aspect of this that's 'strange.'

"I know humans would have learned about Nineveh's water by now, one way or another. But _I_ made the discovery. If I hadn't become 'famous' as the discoverer, I'm sure I wouldn't have been granted guardianship of all those orphans.

"And the only reason I'd gone to Nineveh in the first place was that Mac, in his Chronicle, had specifically asked me to 'come back' _from_ there, to try to rescue you!

"Now I'm _really_ 'back from Nineveh.' In the sense Mac intended, and another."

They all shook their heads.

He continued, "And the name of the planet is such a perfect fit...

"Years back, when planets in that sector were being named, someone took a list of ancient-Earth place names and slapped them on the planets, with no rhyme or reason. Not at all like Silverthorn, named for its most beautiful native tree.

"But there's a story in the Bible, about the city of Nineveh.

"God supposedly orders Jonah to go there and preach - condemn the people's 'wickedness.' Jonah isn't willing to do it. God punishes him by getting him trapped in the belly of a whale. He realizes that even being in Nineveh would be better than being in the belly of a whale! So God gives him another chance, frees him and lets him go to Nineveh.

"There, as ordered, he condemns the 'wicked' people and tells them God will make terrible things happen to them if they don't repent. They _do_ repent...and God spares them.

"No one today believes that really happened, of course. It's a myth. But because of the myth, the name 'Nineveh' can be seen as symbolizing _second chances_. In our case, a 'second chance' for children who really have been 'trapped,' through no fault of their own - not in the belly of a whale, but in bodies where their minds could never mature."

When they'd pondered that for a minute, Methos said softly, "I guess we should never give up _hope_. If there was hope for those children, there may also be hope - someday - for Cassandra."

x

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When they were preparing to leave the hospital, Nick said, "Methos...I've brought something that I think you should have. You may not have known where it was. When you and Mac came here all those years ago to ask us to care for Marcellus, Mac left it with Merith..."

He reached under his coat, and pulled out...Duncan MacLeod's katana.

_"Ohhh..."_ Methos _hadn't_ known where it was, hadn't realized MacLeod had brought it that far with him when they were headed for Earth.

"But you...or maybe Richie..."

They were both shaking their heads. "_You're_ the one who should have it," Nick said firmly.

So he took it. Weeping, he kissed its ivory hilt, clasped it to his bosom.

He didn't need to tell them he'd treasure it forever.

x

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After he'd had time to recover from that surprise, Nick said gently, "There's no denying that Mac is irreplaceable. But..._every one_ of your two hundred fifteen living children has been here to see you and Cassandra, and has asked for regular reports on your condition. You'll be seeing a good many of them now."

Methos took a deep breath. He'd almost forgotten that he _had_ two hundred fifteen children in this era.

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll have to explain that I've been gone a _very_ long time. But maybe we will be able to rebuild some relationships. I'll certainly...give it a chance."

x

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It was only when they were actually leaving that it occurred to him to wonder why, if there'd been no real concern about his eyes, they'd delayed till after dark.

_But...for some reason...it __**isn't**__ dark. I'm sure of the time, but it's so much brighter than it should be..._

Nick said quietly, "Look _up_, Methos."

He did.

And saw _both_ Silverthorn's moons. Full, identical in appearance.

As they'd looked on his wedding night.

As they'd looked four hundred years later, on the night he'd defeated Ahriman.

As they'd looked in his rendering of them - based on Xanda's sketch - on a certain never-to-be-forgotten roof.

The _names_ of those moons were Hope...and not the word often paired with it, Faith, but _Challenge_.

_Never give up._

_Some of humanity's problems may always be insoluble. But others? We have to keep seeking, keep trying._

_The solutions may be over the next hill. In the next galaxy. In the mind of the next person we'll meet...or the next child who'll be born._

Nick said tentatively, "It's supposed to be a good omen..."

"Oh, yes."

He lifted the sword he'd been holding. Shimmering moonlight swirled around them as it glanced off that hallowed blade. And he heard once again the voice of Duncan MacLeod saying, "Maybe, without knowing it, you'd tapped into something universal."

To Nick, he said, _"It's the best of all possible omens."_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Epilogue.**_

He was running, and at first that was all he knew. He enjoyed the sensation of running, so it was good.

_But __**why**__ am I running? Where am I running to, or from?_

He gradually realized he was running through the deserted back streets of a city. A very peculiar-looking city...yet he sensed that he knew every inch of it, and loved it.

He wasn't sure he'd lost his pursuers.

_But why...?_

And then he began remembering. An old enemy had caught him unarmed. His life had been uneventful for a while, and he'd taken the foolish risk of going out without the bulky clothing needed to conceal his...sword.

_Oh, no! Not __**this**__ again!_

Running away from an enemy was an embarrassing last resort. He'd grabbed something he could use as a makeshift weapon; but when it shattered, flight had been the only alternative.

_And then there was a cop chasing both of us. Because the other Immortal was an assassin for hire, and the cop assumed I was an accomplice!_

No problem. He suddenly realized where he'd been running _to_. The river.

_The __**Seine?**__ In...__**Paris?**_

Yes, there it was, straight ahead.

And he succeeded in carrying out the plan he'd had. Leapt into a tour boat, just as it was pulling out.

That action might have saved his life - but the beautiful young tour guide was understandably irked. He hadn't paid for a ticket!

So...he began flirting with her.

_Wait a minute. I can't be doing this! __**Flirting**__, with a woman I've never seen before?_

But he _was_ doing it, and he kept it up. Flirting outrageously.

The young woman obviously found him attractive. As he did her.

He heard himself teasingly correcting her on the completion date of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. She asked - tongue in cheek - whether he'd _been there_.

But as they were trading humorous barbs about that, something extraordinary happened.

The young woman's face _morphed into another face!_ One he knew very, very well.

The look of shock in her eyes told him she was also, suddenly, recognizing _him_...

He cried out, _**"Taysha!"**_

Then he realized he was_ sitting bolt upright in bed._

And the young woman in bed with him had started up at the same moment, crying out, _**"Mick!"**_

x

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Instinctively, each of them began apologizing for having "wakened" the other. But after a few seconds, they fell silent. They both knew what had happened.

They really had been together, all those millions of years ago, in Paris.

And they wouldn't have remembered it, after that length of time, if the relationship hadn't been important.

The twenty-four-year-old Primordials had known each other all their lives. Their fathers - both doctors - had met and become friends when they took part in a mission headed by a long-lifer named Nick Wolfe, that had rescued the last two humans stranded on Earth. The man and woman they'd saved, despite being long-lifers, had been so badly injured that their survival had been in doubt. But at last word, they were at least alive.

The Primordial doctors had been awed by the heroism of the _longivivax_ volunteers who'd traveled to Earth, risking their lives to save Ever-Young children. Especially those who'd chosen to stay there, so all the children could be gotten on ships. And they'd also seen Nick Wolfe as a hero, for his determination to save those last two individuals. The mystery of how he'd anticipated the crisis only added to his legend.

Mick's parents had, in a sense, named him for Nick Wolfe. They'd thought it would be presumptuous to give him the exact same name as a famous person. So they'd chosen a name that _rhymed_ with Wolfe's first name. _Mick._

Mick had always been pleased with that name. From what he'd heard of Nick Wolfe, he admired him. But beyond that, he was glad his name hadn't been intended as a short form of Michael, or anything else. The name Mick somehow felt _right_.

Taysha's parents had also been inspired by the heroism of the volunteers...and by those last survivors' clinging to life. So they'd given her what they saw as a _life-affirming_ name, Anastasia. Its literal meaning was "standing up"; but it had always been used to mean either being resurrected, or never "lying down" in death.

They'd intended to call the child Ana. But she'd insisted the nickname be Taysha. That felt _right_ for her, as Mick's name did for him.

It wasn't unusual for Primordials to have fleeting dreams of past lives. But Mick knew Taysha had never had one before.

He, on the other hand, had them frequently. And he'd been honest enough to tell her everything.

He was the only Primordial he or Taysha had ever heard of, much less known personally, who'd had dream memories of being a long-lifer. And his memories didn't even seem to be those of a "normal" long-lifer. Some of them, yes. But in others, he'd been a long-lifer _before the species should have existed_. He and his counterparts had been fighting with swords, even in eras when no one else fought that way. They'd deliberately cut opponents' heads off! And in the later eras when Mick's previous incarnation lived civilly, he still seemed to be the same person.

Now she asked, awkwardly, "For you...was this one of..._those_ dreams? With the swords?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I wasn't actually using one, but only because I'd left home without it."

"Okay. I didn't really think it could have been anything else."

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to involve _you_ with any of that..."

"It's not a problem," she assured him. "In fact, I'm glad I met you in one of _those_ dreams, because I could sense that you were a good person even then." She snickered. "Good-_looking_, too."

"You weren't so bad yourself!"

"But..." He already knew she was serious again. "I worry about whether I can make you happy, long-term. If you...were what you were, I think you're bound to have regrets about being what you are now! You may not feel that way yet, but I'm afraid you will, as we get older."

He shook his head. "_**No**_**.** I'm absolutely sure about this, Taysha! It's as if...I've been _waiting for it_, for a very long time. I truly want _the experience of growing old with you._

"And I want those children we've talked about. Two boys and two girls, all within the space of ten years or so, so they'll really understand what being 'brothers and sisters' means. Long-lifers can never have that!" With Primordials' shorter life spans, their planet had no need to limit population.

"All right. You've convinced me. Of course, I really _want_ to be convinced..."

Before he could attempt any additional, non-verbal "convincing," she said, "I'm thankful we saw Paris. Saw _Earth!_ I know we were actually there long ago, but now we have the images fresh in our minds. The city, the landmarks, the river...for me, at least, they're more real than they ever were before."

He murmured, "Nothing of value is ever lost..."

And wondered_ Where did that come from?_

Pulling her close, he said, "Hey, when I think about it, I can't believe we _fell asleep."_

"We needed to fall asleep to have the dream," she reminded him. "To learn...how far back we go."

"Umm..."

They pondered that for a minute.

Then he chuckled. "A past full of swordfights. A future full of squalling kids. Never a dull moment!

"But right now, I'm most interested in...tonight."

"Well, I should hope so!"

They shared a lingering kiss.

And then they resumed doing all the other things lovers have done, down through the ages...on a long-awaited wedding night.

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The End


End file.
